The Music Box
by The Lost Arc
Summary: As the oldest orphan, Peter Kirkland can only imagine what freedom would be like. And with his adoption window closing, he can only see a bleak future before him. But, upon discovery of a music box, he'll find that freedom is only a wind-up away.
1. Chapter 1

I watched as the clouds swirled in pink and purple shades of cotton candy colored mischief. They were having fun up there, playing with each other. They never had to worry about life and all of its struggles. They didn't know what it was like to be stuck inside all day long; they were free. I held my hand up before my eyes, so envious of the little wispy fluffs that littered the orange and violet shade of the sky. One could just notice the stars peeking out, but nothing beat that oh-so perfectness of the clouds. I could stare at them all day long, picturing myself eating them as I flew along. Only in movies had I seen the sugary delicacy but never had I actually tasted one of them. I imagine them to be sweet and sticky, that they turn into little pieces of stardust on your tongue. That is what the sky would probably taste like.

The view was something I waited for every night. I wanted to see the sky turn that pretty mixture of color. It was like someone dropped a bucket of Portland Orange paint on the sky and then another of Tea Rose and let them swirl around each other naturally akin to koi fish in a pond. And so when I would finally be able to go outside, I would lay on the ground, much like now, and watch and wait until the sky was perfect. I wish I had a camera, just to take pictures. I would take one every night and date them. I'd put them together to make a great big sky. I'd glue them all to the ceiling so that way everyone can see it before they go to sleep.

I had been laying there for a few minutes, but it felt like hours. The leaves and grass that had tickled me when I had first gotten there no longer tickled me, but enveloped me in nature's hug. The flowers were like the plug in scents back in the home. The little bugs that crawled didn't bother me. I rather liked them. They lived their own lives and did their own things. Whether they flew or crawled, they were free; and I was envious of them. A butterfly landed on my nose. I crossed my eyes to look at it and smiled wide. "Hello there Ms. Butterfly. It's a pleasant evening we're having, isn't it? Have you gotten your daily intake of pollen yet? Well you should, don't want to run out now."

A cry was heard from the inside and the butterfly flew away startled. I sighed, sitting up and glancing back at the home behind me.

It was a small little thing, in appearance and space, but that was only because so many children lived there. It was the Sunshine Orphanage; a little farm in the middle of Lancaster, England that was turned into a place for orphans to live. The building looked practically brand new on the outside, but that wasn't the case on the inside. There were dingy walls, all dying from a few simple years of wear and tear from drawing and constant washing. The beds were decrepit, practically falling apart and the sheets used were stained with juice and patched with little pieces of cloth.

The children inside were mostly young, aged three to nine with the exception of Lilith, the only baby in the home. She was abandoned on the porch steps three months ago and has been a part of the house ever since. There were fifteen children and three adults in a house made for a family of four. But they made room. There was always a way if you tried hard enough. People could fit multiple clothes in a bag so why couldn't fifteen children share a room? The baby got her own room (the room that used to belong to the girls, but they had decided that Lilith needed her space because she was a baby and so they shoved all of the boys and girls into one room).

Typically speaking, space didn't matter really. Most children were adopted within a year of being here. Just last week, Davie Murphy (a boy of six years) showed up last year around October. It was May now, but he had finally been adopted by a nice couple in their thirties. They had a little girl with them who bore a crease in her brow. Probably having been upset over the sudden intrusion of another member taking the attention away from her. He had been a shy boy, very well-mannered and kind-hearted.

 _"My Lidia, I think he's just what we need!"_

 _"I think he looks stupid."_

 _"Now Miranda, please relax dearie. I'm sure you'll love him. I'm sure we'll all love him." They smiled and, like a stuffed animal in a store, they picked him out and did whatever it was that they did beyond the office doors. I had never been in that room with anyone. I had never been chosen and the adults there keep saying I was running out of time._

I am also an exception to the age rule, for I was twelve. I had stayed there the longest out of all of them. As a child, around three, I had lost my parents in a car accident while I was with the babysitter. I don't remember much. I don't remember crying or being angry, I was just confused. It was such a blurry memory that I wondered if it were real at all or not. Maybe I dreamed about it rather than actually experiencing it. But, with no known relatives within reach and my older brother having gone missing, I was thrown into this crock pot of a home.

Sometimes I like to sit and wonder about what my family was like. I have pictures of them, only a few, and even some with my brother in it as well. I like to fantasize about it all being a cruel joke; that maybe one day they'll magically appear and save me from this zoo. I like to think that my brother; after being gone for so long, would finally turn up. They would have found him at a coffee shop and his excuse would be that he simply forgot to come home and grew up the rest of his years on his own. He'd be wealthy and have a pretty housewife too. They may or may not have a kid but that all depended on my mood at the time I thought it up.

I glanced back up, watching as the clouds were pushed farther and farther away, breaking apart into wisps until they vanished into nothingness. With no clouds to paint with the sky's shade, I got up and headed inside. I was very reluctant, taking my time as much as I could. If I let it get dark, Miss Daisy would come out to get me. I learned my lesson the last time I tried to stay out, thinking she wouldn't notice during late night roll call. She came outside that night, red in the face and taught expression glowering at me like some evil sorceress. Her eyes, even in the dark, were a stark shade of green like Medusa's. Her hair was in a bun as per usual but I half expected snakes to come out and turn me to stone.

She was a rough woman too, who went by the books. And by books, I mean the ones of years ago, when children were disciplined with rulers and had to sit with their hands folded a certain way. Most were young and she liked them. She always smiled and played around with them, drew pictures and sang songs with them. But not me. She didn't like me. Miss Daisy was crude. Where she gave everyone a cup of pudding, she gave me a half-cup as if I wouldn't notice. She gave me more vegetables and less meat. Most of the kids didn't notice, they were too caught up in their blissful innocence to ever see what a horrible person she was. But I knew she wasn't everything she made herself out to be.

The worst was when she attempted to play innocent. She had a very youthful appearance, still sporting her baby fat like a necklace of her beauty. But it was all an act that would help her get away with it. However, Mister Donnavan would have none of it. Though he didn't outright say it, he knew she treated me differently and I was grateful for that. He would sneak in an extra wafer cookie or give me a refill of juice whenever we had some extra to spare. He was a nice man and treated everyone equally, the way things should be. Whenever he'd bring it up to her, she'd brush it off; say I was a 'growing boy and was only looking out for my nutrition'.

What a load of rubbish.

I walked inside just in time to avoid getting hit in the head with a ball. "Anabella, I told you not to throw balls in the house, did I not? Huh? Oh, Peter! I was just about to go outside to get you. But it seems you are finally understanding the rules. Now go wash up, supper is ready and you've probably been touching bugs the whole time. Go, now shoo, go on now." She moved both hands in a hurried, dismissive manner; one that read 'I have no time for you and never will'. That and she also had a slight entomophobia so that made things a little more interesting.

Without much protest, I made my way over to the bathroom and did as I was told. I glanced up into the cracked mirror, having broken when Anabella had kicked the ball with the door open. Anabella was a seven year old monster. All she did day and night was run, jump and break things. She pulled the hair of the other girls, shoved the boys around and screamed a tantrum that size of the sun when she didn't get her way. It made everyone's life a hell and, much like myself, she'll probably be in here for quite some time.

I dried off my hands and left the restroom. I only needed to wash my hands now, I could always shower after dinner. As I walked towards the kitchen, I could feel someone tugging on my sleeve. Glancing over my shoulder, I found Alrick gripping my sleeve. He was a shy little boy, about eight with two long braids of platinum hair and fair skin. His eyes were a weird shade of blue, though now with the lighting, they almost looked violet. "What's wrong Alrick? Are you alright?"

"Who me? The almighty Peter? Of course I'm alright, why wouldn't I be?" The smile that graced his face was enough to reassure me that he was also fine. It didn't take much to really upset me, but he probably saw me speaking with Miss Daisy and thought it was something bad. Alrick was like a little brother to me and I appreciated it. It was warm company and having someone look up to you made one feel prideful. "Come on now, let's go and get some dinner. I heard Hulga was making meatloaf." His eyes scrunched up and he stuck his tongue out in a disgusted fashion, causing the both of us to laugh as we headed over to the table.

After dinner, I made sure to shower myself. Miss Daisy had made it her job to not only inspect me, but to point every single thing out while we were eating our meal. She was definitely my number one enemy. She was the villain, the bad guy, the spinach that nobody wanted to eat. Sometimes I think it's because she's lonely, but maybe it was just her upbringing that made her that way. Whatever the reason may be, she was just unnecessarily cruel. At this time, since I was unable to go outside, I simply sat at the window and stared out into the open sky. It was now dark with thousands of glittering stars winking back at me. My parents are up there, in the stars waving hello. Or maybe they were the stars; little angels that watched over the people they had left in the past. Whatever they were, they kept me company every night. They told me words of encouragement, telling me that I'll be adopted some day. They tell me that I'll be happy in the future, that I'll find out what happened to my brother, that I won't have to go to bed every night suffering from an existential crisis. Every time I need help, I look to the sky. The sky is my friend, the sky is the only one there for me when I really need it. It never goes away, whether clouded or clear, bright or dark, littered with clouds or stars, it was there for me.

Miss Daisy soon came into the room, interrupting my discussion with the stars. "Role call children! Everyone line up along your bunks, you all know the drill. Chop! Chop!" And like clockwork, we all stood before our bunks. Mine was near the center of the room, in between Linus's bed and Alrick's. And like a prison guard, she walked along the rows, calling out names like the broken record she was. "Anabella, Alrick, Daniel, Peter," mumbled the hag with a side glance my way. The look lingered; didn't she know it was impolite to stare at somebody? Soon her gaze returned back to focus on the job at hand. Once roll was completed, she stood at the end of the room with her hands behind her pencil skirted legs. "Now children, it is time for you all to go to sleep. Into bed now, not a word of it." And, as if flicking a switch, everyone reacted at once, all climbing into bed and tucking themselves in. There were no forehead kisses, no hugs good night, no 'sweet dreams', and nobody wanted to even think of the possibility of being bitten by bedbugs.

The bed, despite it's small size, felt larger tonight than usual. It was scary, but familiar. I felt as though I was drifting on a plank of wood in the ocean, feeling the light waves pushing me onward to my destination where the sea met the sky. The two blues merged, almost eliminating the horizon line completely. Seagulls flew above my head, squawking their high pitched tune. And it was then I could just barely see it; a large beast-like thing in the water. But it was a ship made of wood and with masts as high as the clouds. I wanted to go there. I wanted to be on that ship and meet the people there. Then the sky grew dark around me and no matter how much I tried to picture something else in my mind, I couldn't. So I stopped fantasizing, just for now.

I glanced over at the window with longing, wanting to move my bunk there. I wanted to feel the breeze against my face as I slept, bringing back to those fantasies of flying or on a ship sailing. I wanted to be so close to the freedom I knew that I would never be able to experience a day in my life. No, not until I left this place would I be able to experience that freedom. Running away was futile; they'd just bring me back to another place if they had known. And money was important, money was both nothing and everything in this world. Even with the few pounds I had, it was nothing; useless.

And so as I tried to reach my hand out to that far away place, I could feel my eyelids drooping shut. I might as well give in, I was not getting out of this. But one day, one day I will be free. One day I will be able to be out in the sun all day long, rowing a boat on golden rays of sunshine. I could smell flowers of all kinds, meet people of all kinds, have fun of all kinds. I want to explore, I want to escape. I want to live the dreams I have dreamed all of my life. And one day, I will be able to. I won't stay here, I can't stay here, I don't want to stay here.

I will search for freedom and I will have her in my grasp. I will love and cherish her. One day.


	2. Chapter 2

Miss Hulga was a walking misconception. What most thought was a brute was actually a kind and caring woman. She was very wide in the shoulders with large breasts. Her face was a little chubby and scrunched up in certain parts. A medium-sized brown mole rested right above her lip and she had a little bit of a mustache that could be seen in just the right light. Her accent was funny; from some place she told me was called Germany. It sounded so mystical and magical; like some land unknown by most even though tons of people have probably traveled there on countless occasions. She told me that there were fields of green and skies bluer than my eyes. I told her I found that hard to believe because my eyes were too blue already.

She said it was.

But she was a very tall woman who worked as our cook, making us dinner, lunch, dessert; you name it, she makes it. Her food is good too, sometimes a little bland but I learned that when she was emotional, the food wasn't as good as when she was happier. Of course, that was once a month but I would like to know what it is that makes her grumpy once a month. I even asked her once, only to be met with a wooden spoon to the arse. She eventually felt bad and gave me a small 'I'm sorry' cookie and told me that I'll find out when I'm older. I'm older, but I still have no idea what that thing is.

"Hulga, do Germans speak English like us?" At the moment, she was cutting up carrots for vegetable soup.

"Hmm? Why no, they don't," she said in her thick accent. "Germans speak German. We don't call even call Germany Germany."

"Really? What does it sound like?"

"Mmhmm, we call it Deutschland."

"Doi-ch-laand?" I tried to pronounce it all she just snickered. "Like that?"

"Ja, but the more you say it, the easier and more natural it feels. So how about calling it that around me from now on as a way to practice? Plus, it makes me feel a little more comfortable when you reference it the way I used to and still do."

"Okay! Doi-ch-land. That has a nice ring to it too. I like it. I want to learn more german from now on!"

"Alright then my little schmetterling."

"Schmetter-what? It sounds like you're trying to say sweater or something. What is that?"

"That," she said as she put the carrots into the blender and blended it, waiting a few moments so she wasn't talking over the blender. At the time, I took the moment to hop onto the free counter and kick my legs, avoiding the cabinet doors to avoid her mild scolding. Hulga liked keeping everything clean and orderly. It was one of the few places that the kids avoided coming into and respected her wishes of 'No Shenanigans'. The kids understood that the kitchen was dangerous and would even advise the younger ones to respect her wishes.

The kitchen was her sanctuary, the one place she could be alone to escape into her own world. I can see it in her eyes, the way she would fondly gaze upon her kitchen knives and the smile that would form when the kitchen was filled with the scent of food. Soups and cakes were her favorite things to make. It reminded her of her childhood and the moments she shared with her family. Even after coming to England, they kept their old habits and traditions.

The blender was shut off and the carrot blend was put into the pot and turned on to make the soup. "It means butterfly in my language. You are very free-spirited, even after being here for so long."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused as to what she meant. I was free-spirited? I didn't feel free. I felt trapped, more so than I ever remember being.

"Well, it's because-"

"Hulga!" interrupted Mister Donnavan. He, unlike Miss Hulga, was actually very handsome for a typical man. His muscles were well defined and his black hair was kept in a small cut. His eyes were a shimmering green like a frog's and his skin unusually darker, like mocha. Her gaze shifted from me to him and she smiled so easily, like it was natural to her. The two of them were really good friends. They sat on the porch and talked to each other for hours on end. Sometimes, on my way to the bathroom, I could hear the two of them talking in the kitchen, laughing and trying to keep their voices low so they wouldn't wake others up with whatever stories they shared.

Both strongly disliked Miss Daisy. They found her unnecessarily unfair and even annoying. I once overheard their conversation about her; mimicking her voice and the way she spoke like some cartoon character on a show. I tried to hold back my laughter then, hurrying up the stairs to get back to bed instead.

He walked over and touched her back, leaning in her ear about something that seemed urgent. She nodded and they both paused for a moment, just looking at each other. I didn't get it, I was trying to find something on one of their faces that was maybe some carrot mush or left over after shave. But there was nothing there. Eventually, Hulga gestured her head in my direction and they both glanced over to me.

I simply smiled and waved eagerly.

Both gave out a breathy laugh, Mister Donnavan giving me his attention now. "I need you to go and get ready Peter. We just got a call that a family was coming so you need to be clean and in tiptop shape."

"Oh! Why not put on that cute vest I bought you? The one with the stripes on it? It looks good with your white dress shirt and grey trousers. I could put that cute little bowtie on you and do your hair. You'll look adorable! Just perfect!"

"As long as you don't do that gross thing where you lick your thumb and wipe my cheek, then okay. I'm feeling confident today! They're going to want to adopt me and I'm finally going to have a family! I'm going to be a son!" Hulga clapped her hands in encouragement while Mister Donnavan looked a little uneasy. But I brushed it off and jumped from the counter to dress myself and prepare for their arrival.

"But Miss Hulga! You promised!"

"Hush, your face is dirty with a smudge of chocolate. You should know better than that, I have to do it." Her finger rubbed against the skin of my cheek to remove whatever residue was left there. "There, all done."

"You could have used a napkin," I mumbled, looking towards the floor in an attempt to hide my embarrassment.

"Napkins don't get the reaction from you that my spit does." If I didn't know any better, I would say that she was genuinely trying to be cruel to me. But I knew better than that. "Now go on, the family will be here soon and you don't want to miss them. They'll end up picking Anabella."

"No! That's the biggest mistake any family can make! Unless they like rowdy, messy children."

"Now, now, relax. She isn't that bad, I was only teasing."

"Peter, are you ready boy?" intruded Satan herself. "The family is here and you know better than anyone that you shouldn't keep them waiting. Now go and try to make a good impression this time. Maybe they'll consider you." Around Mister Donnavan, she was nicer. Around Hulga, she didn't care. Hulga would never stand up to her though, almost like something was keeping her tied down. She looked so determined and angry with her but one sharp look and Hulga's mouth was shut and her inner feelings and emotions were locked up with no chance of being opened anytime soon. So Hulga sighed and patted my back, urging me to go. I wanted to shout at Miss Daisy; to yell and tell her exactly how I felt. It was the same thing everyday, the same harsh words and sharp retorts that had me going mad. But then the way she rendered Hulga defenseless like that wasn't very fair either.

It seemed Hulga and I had a lot more in common than I had previously thought.

With one last hug to Hulga, I walked passed the Wicked Witch and hurried down the stairs. Everyone was dressed to their best; Alrick in his baby blue polo and khaki pants, Jamie in her favorite pink dress and white ribbon; Devon and his black slacks with a button down shirt; everyone was dressed for success.

Everyone was racing to get adopted.

There was competition in the air and a deep desire that maybe, once again, they'll have the affection of loving parents. The idea was so foreign, like another language or another world, it was almost hard to process normally, resulting in fidgeting, eager, hyper children that don't know what to do with themselves in such a stressful and anxious situation. Some children even refused to eat to avoid staining themselves. Others ate too much. It was interesting to see how something as simple as getting adopted can turn normally playful children into little wrecks.

Even I was nervous. I refused to pick at my nails, as if one little imperfection would ruin their opinion of me in a matter of seconds. And so I sat in the living room, waiting for when they would walk through the doors. It wouldn't be for another few minutes that the family came out, bright smiles and holding hands. The woman, no less than five feet tall with stark blue eyes and smile lines, had one plastered right on her face, taking in all of the children with excitement. It was like she had entered a candy store and in her eyes was the deep desire to adopt every one of us. She was pasty with freckles and gingery hair that was let out in tight, almost untamable curls, resembling the princess from a Disney movie he couldn't quite recall the name of.

On the other hand, the man looked much more stern and proper than his wife. His eyes were brown and he, unlike his wife, was analyzing each and every child he saw. It was almost like he was trying to see under our child-like faces, trying to see just who was a trouble-maker and who wasn't. This man was the kind of man who wanted a child that wouldn't be troublesome by drawing on the walls and getting paint all over the carpet. His hair was blond, neatly gelled to the side in a handsome way that shaped his face nicely.

The two adults were complete opposites but it looked like they completed each other as well. Donnavan told me love was a complex thing; that it was hard to understand and that everyone who experiences it is usually caught off-guard. People who hated each other could fall in love at any second. People that were best friends for all of their childhoods could become lovers for the rest of their existence. Opposites attract, positives attract, negatives attract; there was no rule of thumb for trying to figure out who your ideal partner would be.

I thought it sounded really sappy, but really nice too.

The pair walked up to many of the children if the children had not run up to them already. And just when I thought they would avoid me, they smiled and came right up to me. "Hi there! What's your name?"

"I'm Peter Kirkland! I'm twelve years old."

"Really now?" said the man, giving a small, reserved smile. "How long have you been here son?"

Son. That term made my heart speed up a thousand beats a second. Could it finally be? "I've been here since I was three."

"Oh you poor dear!" cried the woman, running her hand through my hair and instantly I craved more of the affection. "Well, I think our mind has been-" And suddenly, a baby's cry was heard throughout the room. Everyone stood still.

Everyone stayed quiet.

"A baby?" The woman said after a few moments. Her eyes focused in the direction of the sound and Miss Daisy instantly brought her out. "What's her name?" she asked, completely leaving me in a daze; as if she wasn't about to agree to adopting me.

"Her name is Lilith."

"Oh sweetheart, we simply must get her! Let's fill out the papers."

"Well...if this is what you want. We'll do it." The woman cheered and was immediately led into the office where I still didn't know what happened in there. I'd never know what happened in there.

The children all dispersed and went to change their clothing into something much more comfortable. But then there was me, standing and staring at nothingness. I felt numb, I felt nothing. From the corner of my eye, I could see Hulga and Mister Donnavan standing there with concerned and apologetic glances. They pitied me. They felt bad for me. I also felt bad for me. Eventually the family left and Miss Daisy walked into the room with that same sickeningly disgusting voice of hers. "Peter go clean up." But I didn't move. I refused to move. Where was I going to go? I was stuck here. "Peter. Go clean up!" Her voice was rising in volume and I refused to do what it was she said.

"Peter if you do not go upstairs this instant-" At this point I droned her out. Her voice was now just wind that blew by my ears; an empty sound that did nothing but make me feel colder and colder. I swallowed and finally snapped out of my daze when I felt a sting on my cheek.

Miss Daisy had hit me.

"Go upstairs now," she seethed. And I did. Finally the tears rolled down my cheek and still, the look of anger and dominance left itself permanent on her face. I wanted to yell at her but what was the point. I felt like I was dead because this was hell. Turning around, I hurried upstairs but I didn't go to my room. Instead, I went to the attic and I wanted to stay there for hours, weeks, months, years. An eternity if I had to!

It was stuffy and dark until, after stumbling through a spider's web, I had found a cord and tugged on it, the light from the ceiling illuminating the room. There were boxes upon boxes of stuff in the room. I had never actually been here; it was like stepping foot into a brand new world.

I found a box labeled 'Daisy' Things' and visibly cringed. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with that horrid beast anymore. So, what better way to get back at her than by going through her things? There were albums and yearbooks and mix tapes and all sorts of treasures in here. Clothing and jewelry and letters.

There was a hat in the box and I took it out, putting it on my head and instantly mimicking her. "Oh Peter!" I said in a really high voice. "Do the cleaning. Oh Peter don't do this! Peter you're such a despicable child you'll never be adopted if you don't eat your carrots. More bean mash!" I flipped some imaginary hair over my shoulder and strutted over to some other corner of the attic. There was a box with no label on it that caught my attention. Opening the flaps, I coughed at the sudden dust that flew through the air and got caught in my throat.

Inside were weird things like snowglobes and capes and a few smaller boxes. I took a cape out and put it on me. It was black but it felt so velvety and soft to the touch, I couldn't help but sit down and wrap myself up in it. I pulled out a snowglobe and shook it; the whole thing Christmas themed with two candy canes sticking out of the snow and a small gingerbread house. "This is cute. I've never seen it before, I should take it out this Christmas. I'll probably be here anyway," I added with a sadder tone.

Continuing my search after setting it aside, I pulled out an intricately made box, one that was a deep crimson with black lining all of the edges. It looked fairly old, probably by a hundred years of so. I tried to open it but it wouldn't budge so I lifted it up and looked around the whole thing, finally finding a hole on the left side. "What's this for?" Maybe something in the box could help?

Reaching in, I looked around and rummaged through whatever knick-knacks and delights were in there. I touched something and immediately reeled back, sticking my right pointer finger in my mouth. I was instantly greeted with the taste of iron. Great, I was bleeding. Once the pain subsided, I decided to take everything out one by one until all that was left were a few pins and needles that lined the bottom of the box and a little plastic container used for storing sewing equipment.

What a death trap that is.

But what suddenly caught my eye weren't any of those things; but a silvery-violet key. Carefully, I reached in and pulled it out, running my finger over the intricate design. Attached to it was a chain long enough to be put around someone's neck. Taking the key, I looked it over and put it into the hole and turned it. The lid opened and music began streaming from it. I didn't try to hide it or even try to shush it. It was calming and seemed to make all of my troubles and anger melt away. A yawn escaped me and I knew I shouldn't have but I couldn't help it. I was alone in the attic with nobody yelling at me and no adopting parents to make me feel like I was worthless. So for the moment, I just laid there on the ground, the hat and cape still adorning my features, and allowed the music to whisk me away to some far off land. Curling up on the floor, I allowed the sweet melody lull me to sleep with a small smile on my face.

* * *

 **There's chapter two. I am trying hard to keep this thing going because I really like the idea and all of the stuff I have planned.**

 **Poor Peter didn't get adopted. At least he has something to keep him company now.**


End file.
